Hotgear Prompt No1
by VictorianRose99
Summary: Please review! Rated M for sexual situations and language.


**A/N: I miss and adore HotGear.**

 **Enjoy my lovelies!**

* * *

 ** _Angst-_** As Richie walked into the bedroom, he almost collapsed. Tears streamed down his face as he shook with strong tremors. Frankie, who was watching _Cops_ on the bed, grew wide eyed. Without taking his eyes off the technopath, he cautiously walked over to him and steadied Richie as his chest heaved with uneven breath.

Moments passed stiffly and slowly. Both men were socially awkward, simply on opposite sides of the spectrum.

When all grew silent and still, Francis surrendered.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

"I... I can't believe you."

The redhead froze.

"What did I do?"

"You...you're _leaving_ me!"

"What-"

" _The passport, Frankie! The fucking passport!"_

"...I can explain, nerd..."

"You have five damn minutes, Francis Stone."

Frankie did something uncharacteristic then. He wrapped the blonde up in his arms, secure against his chest.

And shuddered.

Francis shook and almost whimpered. He squeezed the genius and fooled uselessly with his hands.

"I'm scared, Rich..."

The smallest flicker of sympathy began in the skinny man's chest. "Of _what,_ Francis?"

"I'm gonna do something unforgivable and you're going to leave my ass."

Richie's heart sank hopelessly and he turned in his lover's arms, snuggling into his chest.

"If you did anything that could possibly lead to that," he mumbled against Frankie's heart," you know what I'd do?"

"What?" asked the pyro stupidly.

"I'd do something ten times more horrible, so that we'd be even. I'd rip your heart out, like you did mine. We'd trade. Then, if it makes you happy, you can buy me a fucking passport, too. We'd run away for no damn reason."

As if it were possible, Francis held Rich tighter.

"I love you so fucking much."

"I'd die without you, Frankie. I'd die."

"Me, too, babe. Me, too."

 _ **Fluff-**_ When Francis Stone held Richie Foley in his arms, all with world was right. Social discord over the fact that they were gay and Bang Babies- that meant nothing as he nurtured the life of his lover in his grasp. As his breath kept the immeasurable time of wonder filled silence.

As he watched the genius dream with his eyes open. He watched him bite his rosy bottom lip, a nervous tick that was simply nature now. His eyelashes shade brilliant sapphires in vain. His soft, delicate hands embrace and caress the fire-charred palms of a confused soul, searching for his place in the cruel world.

But in moments like this, Frankie isn't so confused.

 _ **Smut-**_ Frankie is a _rough_ son of a bitch. When he and Richie's bodies connect, it burns and aches.

There is no caress. Nails rip into willing, previously unmarked skin. There is no soft, lover's kiss. Lips are agonisingly bruised with passion, tongues in never ending battle. Breath is neither often nor in abundance. It is stolen through screams and demands.

And Richie loves ever bit of it. But his favorite part is when their hips slap together, abusing each other. Achingly thrusting over and over. Cries of exhaustion fill the void as the threat of release fills aching, bouncing cocks. A calloused, burning hand grips the needy appendage and fucking milks it. Spending Richie until he has nothing left. An explosion within him burns the walls of his muscular caverns. And something slides out.

They crash, useless and broke. Nothing to offer a world that never stopped expecting. And that's when the hoarse, damaged voices of two useless people break out in the...wherever the hell they are at the time.

Bruised, shattered limbs tangle together, the lovers forming a cocoon of covers _-or jackets, depending on what's available-_ and will arise in the morning alive and new.

 _ **Horror-**_ He stared at the pyrotechnic with absolute certainty that he was losing his mind. They walked onto the oh so familiar wharf that had forever changed the both of them, one indirectly. The smell of sea water and treated wood had overwhelmed by the scent of the most murderous poison. The fog morphed from a soft gray into an eerie lavender. And Francis stopped breathing, eyes wide open and fearful.

His strong, impenetrable body shook hideously with sickness. His diaphragm reflexes and he bowed in on himself. The wave of vomit made Richie stumble backwards, sight shifting and fading. When it finally stopped, Frankie screamed coarsely. His raw throat could take no more. With poison, vomit, and dreams ripping through it, it didn't stand a chance.

As the scream grew more desperate with the burning pain, blood blew through with the heart shattering agony.

"Frankie," begged the technopath, "let's get out of here!"

Francis just stared at Rich then. The agony closed its act abruptly. He stood up straight. His beautiful physic pulsed with power.

And the pyro smirked. He walked closer to his trusting lover and played calloused hands upon the small shoulders.

The blonde continued to look at the redhead with faith as his hands seemingly caressed his long, pale neck.

Then Francis Stone tightened the grip. Richie Foley trembled in fear, eyes of sapphires darting into the lavender-tainted atmosphere.

And he tensed his hands-

And _squeezed-_

 _Fucking squeezed-_

 _And they pyro loved it as the poison fumes got him higher and higher._

 _He lost all fucking control. He felt the fire in his smallest capillaries. His breath quickened and he licked his lips, like lonely teenager, trying to force some kind of pleasure into his life._

And Francis let the fire go. A hideous, confused, terrified sound left Richard Foley as he was lit up like a new candle.

...

The terrible screams echoed in the stolen Volkswagen.

"Oh, God! Please don't kill- stop! PLEASE STOP!"

"It's okay, baby. I'm here!"

"I love you! Why!?"

"Wake up, babe!"

Frankie's eyes shot open and stared at the pale face, bordered by golden locks.

"Richie...it was bad this time."

"I could tell," Richie snorted softly.

"I don't ever wanna hurt you, dammit."

"You won't, baby. You're too good to me."

He caught his breath and thought on the gentle explanation, capturing that familiar face in between his undeserving hands.

The hands of sinner were ruining a saint.

"...You really do help. Thanks."

As they smiled at each other, the horror show slowly faded from Francis's memories.


End file.
